


Nothing Like a Good Ghost Hunt

by thecheekydragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Ghosts, M/M, Merlin POV, Modern AU, Paranormal, fest fic, merlin-horror, spn references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecheekydragon/pseuds/thecheekydragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and his team are commissioned to investigate the hauntings at the famed Camelot Castle and get more than they bargained for when they find that the paranormal investigation team led by Arthur Pendragon has been commissioned to do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like a Good Ghost Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to LJ on October 20, 2012
> 
> Written for [merlin-horror](http://merlin-horror.livejournal.com) fest.

There were five golden rules when hunting ghosts.

_Number One: Do your research._

This was the first golden rule for a reason. You couldn’t begin to hunt a ghost or resolve a haunting without finding out as much as you could about the haunting location and likely spirit culprit. 

The location of current interest was an old library in Feltham, built in the early 1900s, with many of its original rooms still intact though heavily renovated to make the library accessible to a larger group of patrons and to accommodate the technological advances of the past century. Though partly modernized, it was still considered ‘quaint’ and any other time, Merlin might have enjoyed spending the day roaming around the library, taking in the splendid architecture and revelling in the rather vast collection of early edition books. But today was a working day not a leisure day, so much of the quaintness went unexplored, including a look at a first edition copy of Dickens’ _Great Expectations_ that the library boasted to have on display. 

The likely spirit culprit in this case was one Maybel Dixon who, it was discovered, had presided over the original library as an assistant librarian between 1916 and 1918 when she met her untimely death at the hands of the wife of her lover, the Head Librarian – one John Stowte. The wife – Lucy Stowte – had become enraged when she learned that her husband was having an affair with the efficient but rather lovely (as indicated by the photographs the library held in its collection) Maybel. It had been told that Mrs. Stowte confronted Maybel in the reading room on the second floor of the library as Maybel was meticulously picking up and organizing books to re-shelve in their proper places. The librarian had apparently been caught by surprise when Lucy Stowte declared her a ‘trollop’ (mostly speculation but consistent throughout accounts), and she clutched the books to her chest to prevent them from falling, which had unfortunately left her somewhat defenceless when Lucy stabbed her in the abdomen with the sterling silver nail file from her bureau set she had tucked away in her handbag. 

Accounts of Maybel’s murder by patrons in the library at the time mention shrieks that drove shivers down spines and, strangely but perhaps not shockingly, screams that were heard throughout the library about books being ruined (one account quoted the librarian as screaming, “My books! My beautiful books!) Apparently, Maybel Dixon had taken her role as assistant librarian very seriously and was purported to have anointed herself “Keeper of the Books”. It seemed likely that Maybel had not taken kindly to being murdered before she had been able to secure the books in their proper places and her between-worlds presence in the library may well have reflected her belief that she had to complete her task. At least that was Elena’s take on the haunting. Merlin, on another hand, figured that Maybel was just pissed off and wanted to wreak havoc for a while until someone told her it was time to let it go. 

What was perhaps most interesting about this haunting was that Maybel Dixon had been dead for almost a century and yet the wreaking of havoc (which generally indicated a poltergeist) had only begun in recent months. Sure, there had been periodic reports of sudden cold spots in the library, books falling from shelves all of a sudden, and sightings of faint apparitions over the years since Maybel’s murder, but nothing monumental as far as hauntings went. Three months ago, however, coinciding with a rash of vandalism in the library by youths, Maybel’s largely dormant spirit had apparently awoken. Books flew rather than fell off of shelves; unseen hands ‘pushed’ patrons and staff down the staircase connecting the first and second floors; flashes of light appeared down hallways and around corners and patrons reported hearing whispers that sounded like soft shriekings of, “My books! My beautiful books!” (probably induced by suggestion rather than anything else). The incident that had led to calling Merlin’s team involved an entire book shelving unit being ‘pushed’ over by the alleged spirit which had nearly crushed one of the youths suspected of the vandalism.

This had led to Merlin’s working theory that Maybel was pissed off that these kids were messing with her books and her library and she had seemed to have no qualms about seriously injuring them. This made Merlin further wonder if maybe Maybel didn’t have her own deep, dark secrets hidden somewhere the accounts and records hadn’t revealed. She may have been an efficient librarian and professed Keeper of the Books but Merlin suspected Maybel Dixon may have had a dark past she hadn’t wanted anyone to discover. 

_Number Two: Never hunt alone._

Merlin was not hunting this ghost or resolving this haunting alone. He had a complement of competent team members who were helping him. There was Lance, of course, their resident research nerd who had unearthed and put together the back story of the library and its first librarian and assistant librarian. Lance was, as always, dutifully at the ready, hunkered over his laptop, waiting for any signal from Merlin that additional information was needed, very likely with Will, their visual/audio guy, hanging over his shoulder. Elena and Freya were busy smudging various sections of the library, ensuring that any and all spirits were being cleansed away, along with any residual negative energy. And he had Gwaine, who was responsible for ensuring everyone’s safety and made tactical decisions when the need arose, although if Merlin knew Gwaine he was likely chatting up the current and very pretty librarian in the library office while the rest of the team did their thing under the guise that he was making sure that she remained safe. 

Merlin, who was currently in the thick of things as far as the ghost hunt and haunting resolution were concerned, was the team’s (fearless) leader and what some called an “intuitive” – not a psychic, which is what Elena claimed to be, but someone who could sense or feel paranormal phenomena like spirits and ghosts. When he was a boy, his mother had told him he had “magic” as a way of helping to explain his unique gift. Now that he was older and in the business of ghost hunting, Merlin had occasion to meet other intuitives – like Freya, for example – people who had a similar sensing gift. 

He was definitely feeling the spirit of Maybel-the-librarian now, even if his eyes couldn’t see her. And the feeling was dark – ominous and sinister. This is what had been fuelling Merlin’s suspicions that perhaps Maybel had secrets she hoped would stay buried.

_Number Three: Never let them see you sweat._

Merlin wasn’t exactly sweating, but he was about to blow his top. And that was after, at the start of all of this, he had been close to peeing his pants – another ghost hunting no-no (never show fear) and not just because it would be embarrassing and because Gwaine would tease him mercilessly and never let him forget it. 

But, thankfully, the urge to piss had given way to being pissed off. After raising the hair on the back of his neck a few times (he refused to admit she’d scared the wits out of him at least twice), the librarian ghost had begun to get cute with him and Merlin’s patience was past the point of being tried. He had finally been able to corner the spirit in the private collection section of the library and it was well time to cast her out.

“Come out, come out wherever you are...” he taunted bravely because she was just a ghost, after all.

Merlin thought he heard snickering.

Oh, he thought determinedly, this librarian ghost bitch was _going down_!

_Number Four and Five: Get the job done and get the hell out._

These were golden rules number four and five, respectively, but Merlin liked to think of them as a combined rule since it seemed kind of ridiculous to him not to get the hell out after the job was done. What was the point of hanging around? No, best to cast the ghost out from its haunting place, scram, and never look back.

And it was high time for both the ghost and the ghost hunter to face the proverbial music. Catching a glimpse of the spirit’s reflection on the monitor screen of the computer sitting atop the reading table, Merlin knew that the spirit was hovering just in front of the floor-to-ceiling window at the end of the row of bookshelves. He turned and faced the spirit, illuminated by the morning light coming from the window. As far as ghost apparitions went, this one was fairly well formed. Merlin could make out Maybel’s shapely figure in the skirt and jacket suit that was fashionable in her day, the austere swept up hair, and the features of her face that had made her alluring and attractive. It was no wonder John Stowte’s head had been turned. Maybel had been quite the looker. But there was also a trace of something sinister in her expression that made Merlin want to shudder.

He suppressed the urge and turned his attention back to the task at hand, uttering the strange words he instinctively knew to say: “ _Grith faestne mid thisse tintregedan sowle! Ablinn du, forlaet du nu!”_ (This roughly translated, or so he believed, into “Give peace to this tortured soul! Leave now/be gone!”)

The spirit reacted but seemed torn, perhaps measuring the merits of staying to deal with unfinished business and wanting to be released from its between-worlds prison. Merlin spoke the words again, trying to convince the spirit that being released and leaving this place was in the best interests of all. 

The librarian ghost made one last effort to resist, the spirit coming at him in a fury of screeching and wailing, which did nothing to help Merlin’s already near-frazzled nerves. He deflected the spirit’s attempt to assail him with a quickly uttered, _“Forp fleoge!”_ , another pair of words he used on instinct but that he had always been reasonably certain was some version of “Keep the fuck away!” 

And just like that, the restless spirit of Maybel Dixon departed from the here and now and returned to the world she belonged. Merlin stood between the bookshelves for a few minutes, using his ability to intuitively sense any sign that the spirit of Maybel still lingered. 

Merlin allowed himself a sigh of relief. He sensed nothing, except for his own urge to get the hell out as quickly as possible now that the job was done.

  


Merlin turned the key and pushed open the door, stepping into the place he called home, which was basically an old apothecary shop that he had inherited from his great Uncle Gaius. He set his rucksack on the antique tincture cabinet in front of the curtained window by the door and flicked a switch to illuminate the middle section of the shop with soft light.

Two years ago, when Gaius had passed, Merlin had found that the apothecary shop, which he had fiddled around in under Gaius’ supervision since he had been a boy, had been left to him. Not wanting the responsibility of running a shop full-time, he had basically converted the shop – circa 1791 – into a living space. Merlin had left the cabinets, jars and chests in the main shop area for nostalgic purposes, and had thrown in a Georgian period sofa, armchair, tables and lamps for a more homey look. He had converted the shop counter into a make-shift kitchen, adding a stove and fridge, while making eclectic use of the vintage shop jars, beakers, bottles and bowls as kitchen ware. At the back of the shop, there were three additional small rooms – one he used as a bedroom, one as a bath, and one as an office – each of the rooms featuring antique cabinets as part of the decor. It turned out apothecary chests came in rather handy.

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck as he made his way over to the rust-coloured sofa, thinking it would probably do him good to soak in a nice, hot bath. Of course, the bathroom was equipped with a large claw-foot tub that was perfect for long therapeutic soaks and romantic bubble baths – not that Merlin generally had time for either. But it was one of those luxuries he tended to indulge in from time to time – at least the therapeutic soak – especially after a gruelling ghost hunt.

Something white and rectangular caught his eye by the door and Merlin wondered that he hadn’t seen it when he had come in, as he would have had to step right over it. Mysterious, he thought, then laughed to himself. Being in the ghost-hunting business, he supposed he was prone to turning many a thing into a mystery. It made the job – which was actually quite mundane, to tell the truth – somewhat more exciting.

The something turned out to be an envelope, which Merlin guessed must have been slipped under his door. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It was cream not white with his team’s official name handwritten on the front in bold, defined strokes. Merlin carried the envelope with him over to the sofa, where he sat propping his feet up on the low drawer chest that served as a coffee table, and slid a metal bar used for separating pills under the envelope flap.

Inside was a single-page letter on fancy paper, gold letterhead pronouncing _The Dragon Trust_ , signed at the bottom by someone named Kilgharrah, who must have addressed the envelope if the handwriting of the signature was anything to go by. Merlin’s eyebrow quirked up as he read through the content with interest, his excitement growing with each word he read. What Kilgharrah was proposing was absolutely the most fantastic thing his team would ever be a part of – _if_ they decided to take the job. And surely they would since there was actual promise of funding and quite a bit of it too.

He set the letter down on the chest table top, his body feeling instantly renewed with the excitement now thrumming through it. Merlin decided to postpone the bath soaking in favour of a quick shower so that he could call a meeting of his team to discuss Kilgharrah’s proposal. 

Already, Merlin could feel the strain from resolving the library haunting slipping away as he thought about the exciting opportunity that had mysteriously been presented to them.

  


The team of ghost hunters was gathered in Merlin’s apothecary shop living room, listening intently as Merlin told them of Kilgharrah’s letter and his proposal. Well, all except for Gwaine who was rooting around in Merlin’s fridge, listening at the edge.

“This juice or poison?” Gwaine asked, holding up a vintage apothecary jar of pinky-orange liquid.

Merlin saw Will roll his eyes and heard Elena giggle. “Come on, Gwaine, you know I keep the poison in jars on the shelf,” Merlin reminded him, gesturing toward the stock of shelved jars behind the counter.

Gwaine shrugged then poured himself a vintage beaker full of what was actually raspberry lemonade.

Gwaine’s interruption gave the rest of his team time to consider and assess what Merlin had just told them.

“So this would be a paying gig that would be equally split among the BOO-Busters?” Will, who was the one always the most concerned about finances, asked frankly.

Officially, they were known as the BOO-Busters (even now, Merlin couldn’t help grimacing at the name and he much preferred to go to that fantasy place in his mind where they were known as the more sophisticated “Team Emrys”) and this was the name that had addressed the envelope. Of course, when they had first started, Will had wanted to call them the BOOgers but most everyone had objected on principle (except Gwaine who insisted he liked the sound of it) and so some sort of compromise had been made, with the end result being the BOO-Busters.

“Thirty thousand pounds upfront plus expenses,” Merlin told him, “and another thirty upon presentation of evidence.”

Will let out a whistle. Merlin knew what he was thinking – what they were all thinking. This job would net them each a cool ten thousand pounds, which was far more than they usually ever got for hunting ghosts or resolving hauntings. The truth of it was, ghost hunting was a rather expensive hobby. They did the rounds, of course, at the various paranormal conferences and conventions to garner sponsorship for their activities and occasionally secured funding from celebrity benefactors or were paid outright for their services by owners of places that were haunted, but payments tended to be relatively small and generally only covered the expenses involved in the hunting. This kind of sponsorship and funding was not enough to actually live on; certainly none of them could afford to quit their ‘day jobs’.

And each of them, for the most part, had pretty decent day jobs. Merlin made use of his chemistry degree to concoct herbal remedies, ointments and tinctures, which he sold to a very select local clientele as well as online through a website Lance had created for him. Freya was an emergency dispatcher and Will was a wedding photographer/videographer. Lance was an IT technician who worked as a consultant for several upscale corporations. Elena was a freelance psychic who, like Merlin, provided service to a select local clientele (many of their regular customers overlapped); she also ran a website where she mediated live chats and provided information about psychic abilities. Gwaine claimed to provide elite security to a prominent business in the city, but Elena suspected that was Gwaine-speak for being a bouncer at the local pub. And Elena would know. She _was_ psychic, after all.

“What kind of evidence is expected?” asked Lance, the practical one of the bunch.

“The usual,” Merlin said. “Photos, videos, EVP recordings. Anything that captures the presence of spirits.” 

Lance nodded. It was the standard request. 

“And this trust corporation or whatever it is says it can get us in and out of Camelot?” Freya asked sceptically.

This was the part Merlin was both excited about and troubled over. The location the team was being asked to investigate was the ruins of the famed Camelot Castle. All of England and much of the world was familiar with the legends surrounding Camelot and its castle fortress. While parts of the castle had been destroyed in battle during the medieval period, the castle as a whole remained and was visible(though perpetually shrouded by mist and fog) from respectable distances. There had been numerous attempts on the part of both the government and private parties to explore the castle ruins with the hope even of opening the castle to the public, but these attempts had been ultimately thwarted in turn. 

The primary difficulty was that the castle ruins at Camelot were hard to actually find, even though they were visible. Those who ventured to journey there found themselves quickly disoriented and lost, often ending up where they had started, no closer to reaching their destination. It was said that the castle was guarded by spirits that were efficient in keeping people away, spirits connected to the legendary tales that had enticed people for centuries. 

Occasionally, there were reports of someone or some group having made their way to the castle ruins but who were ultimately driven back by the spirits. These people inevitably achieved fame for a brief period, capitalizing on it by writing books, giving talks, establishing websites, and selling things collected during their ‘visit’ (the authenticity of these items was suspect and any knowledgeable ghost hunter or antiques dealer would quickly dismiss it as bunk). To Merlin’s knowledge, no one had ever come back with real evidence – spectre photos, EVP recordings, thermal image video. This meant that, for the most part, Camelot Castle remained a dangling carrot to paranormal investigators (and to many historians, Merlin would dare say). And now the BOO-Busters had a chance to grab a firm hold of that carrot and actually peel it. It was a ghost hunter’s dream.

“So, why didn’t this Kilgharrah chap ask Those Who Shall Not Be Named to check out the castle?” Will wanted to know.

It was a good question and one Merlin didn’t have an answer for. Of course, by “Those Who Shall Not Be Named” (they often shortened this to T.W.S.N.B.N when the mood struck) Will meant PPI – Pendragon Paranormal Investigations – which was led by Arthur Pendragon and his sister, Morgana. Given the location of the haunting – Camelot Castle – the PPI team would seem to be the much more logical choice. After all, it was believed that the last kings to reside in the castle before its abandonment some time during the late 5th century were, in fact, ancestors of the current Pendragon family, most notably King Uther and his son and successor, King Arthur.

“All the better for the BOO-Busters,” Elena said cheerfully and Gwaine, who had finally settled on the sofa beside her, gave a supporting whoop and nod.

Merlin looked at the five members of his team expectantly. “So, we in?”

As was team custom, each member was expected to cast a vote. Gwaine and Lance nodded, Will gave a shout of “hell yeah”, Freya murmured a soft “okay”, and Elena stared intently at Merlin, no doubt trying to communicate her vote telepathically (to date, this had never worked) which Merlin logically assumed meant she was in. 

Merlin grinned. “Guess we’re going to Camelot.”

  


True to its word, The Dragon Trust, through Kilgharrah, had arranged for Merlin’s team to be dropped by helicopter right in the heart of Camelot. Once they were on ground, Merlin could admit (to himself, of course) that there had been moments during the air ride that had caused him some concern, particularly when the pilot began to have trouble steering the chopper once they approached the castle. And if Merlin had dug his nails into Lance’s thigh at that time, he was sure that his research expert, who had looked a tad dubious that they would land safely himself, would say nothing.

The Castle itself, though parts of it were in ruin and had never been repaired, was magnificently impressive and especially so up close. Of course, his team had experience with haunted castles. They were all familiar with the most famous castle hauntings – Chillingham, Warwick, Edinburgh; even without the lure of ghosts, these castles were impressive in design and architecture. But Camelot Castle was impressive on a whole other level. It was, to sound completely cliché, legendary.

They made their way across the courtyard, carrying equipment, food supplies, and their personal belongings. The arrangement with Kilgharrah called for the BOO-Busters to spend three nights at Camelot to obtain evidence of paranormal activities. It was not quite eight o’clock in the morning on Friday and they were to be picked up by helicopter on Monday morning. That gave the team ample amount of time to set up and perform their investigations.

“Where to?” Gwaine asked, setting a bin down that contained some of their food supplies.

Lance did the same with the burdens he was carrying and unfolded a large piece of paper, which Merlin knew was a rough blueprint of the castle that Lance had been able to put together from various sources. 

“Probably best to pitch camp in the Great Hall, which might have been the Throne Room,” Lance replied, pointing his finger to a spot on his ‘map’. “That seems to be the hub and we can branch out our investigations from there.”

“Great Hall? Throne Room?” Will remarked. “Posh bunch of gits the Pendragons were.”

“Bet the current Pendragon princess has a throne room in his flat,” Gwaine joked and Will laughed. 

Elena tsked but Merlin saw a grin playing at her lips that mirrored his own. Freya and Lance reserved judgment. 

With Lance’s competent direction they traipsed through the castle, Elena occasionally stopping along the path to ooh and ah at various things she found impressive. 

“Getting any vibes?” Gwaine asked Merlin and Freya. 

“Just the usual ‘spooky place’ ones,” Merlin replied dryly, and Freya gave him wink. Merlin’s intuitive abilities tended to be stronger than Freya’s but even his ‘spidy senses’, as Gwaine and Will liked to call them, didn’t turn on as quickly as Gwaine was prone to believe.

“There’ll be plenty of time for Merlin and Freya to feel out the place once we get settled,” Lance reminded the group. He turned and motioned a lingering Elena to move along. 

When they entered the Great Hall, the first thing they noticed was the absence of a throne. That was to be expected, of course. The second thing they noticed, however, was the presence of a massive round table, a little worn and dusty but otherwise impeccably preserved, the Pendragon crest of old carved into its centre, a testament to the legacy of the fair King Arthur. Merlin wasn’t sure what surprised his team more – that the table fabled to create equality among King Arthur and his knights was historically preserved and present or that there was a scattering of modern day belongings strewn on top of and around the famous Round Table.

They soon found out the reason for this puzzle when the members of PPI suddenly appeared, led by a frowning Arthur Pendragon. 

“Well, well, isn’t this a surprise?” Morgana Pendragon said, arching a perfect eyebrow. In looks, she was almost the exact opposite of her brother – raven-haired and pale-skinned in comparison to Arthur’s blonde locks and golden skin.

Yes, Merlin thought cynically. Definitely a surprise.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Arthur Pendragon.

“We could ask the same,” Will returned in challenge. 

“We’re here on a sponsorship,” Merlin told him, his suspicions mounting.

Arthur Pendragon cocked his head and gave Merlin a penetrating look. “Let me guess,” he said. “The Dragon Trust? A man who calls himself Kilgharrah?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, not liking where this was going.

“Same here,” Arthur revealed, blowing out a sigh.

Will snorted. “Since when does PPI need sponsorship? You’ve got money up the yin-yang for investigations.” He gestured grandly around him. “Besides, kind of your family’s castle, isn’t it?”

Arthur ignored him. “Just stay out of our way,” he growled.

Merlin’s eye twitched in annoyance. “We have as much right to investigate as you do,” he said, trying to keep his temper at bay. “We’re all ghost hunters, after all.”

Arthur laughed, the throaty kind of laugh that was full of sarcasm. Arthur Pendragon was the team leader of Pendragon Paranormal Investigations, but he was also known to be one of the biggest sceptics around, which was highly ironic. Merlin knew he scoffed at terms like “ghost hunting” and “ghost hunters” and tended to hold disdain for self-identified ghost hunter groups like Merlin’s BOO-Busters. 

As far as Merlin and his team were concerned (and was confirmed visually before them), PPI was all bells and whistles. They had the most up-to-date and expensive cameras, camcorders, EMF detectors, and EVP recorders. They wore matching black tactical vests with white PPI letting on the back, communicated using high-frequency headsets, and did on the spot research using their wireless-ready tablets. Merlin’s BOO-Busters, by contrast, were anything but high-tech and glamorous. Their standard ghost hunting attire was a mish-mash of whatever was comfortable , clean, and had enough pockets to carry their gear around. They got by with equipment bought on budget, used the tried-and-true walkie talkie method of communicating, and for reference they preferred good old-fashioned journal-style notebooks to electronic tablets (hey, if a journal was good enough for John Winchester and his boys, it was good enough for the members of Team Emrys). 

Merlin stared Arthur down, ready to defend his team and their work against the jabs he was certain Arthur was intending to throw at them. Morgana wisely interjected.

“Okay, so here’s the situation. Both of our teams are here to investigate on the commission of the same sponsor. If the arrangements are the same, we both got money upfront with the promise of more money upon presentation of evidence. It makes no sense for us to battle each other and every bit of sense to work together.”

They all stared at her. Arthur was the first to speak.

“You can’t seriously be suggesting, Morgana, that we work with this team of—of misfit ghost busters?”

“Hey!” censured Gwaine.

“Oi!” Will complained. “Who you calling misfits?”

Morgana Pendragon folded her arms across her chest. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” she said. “Anyone else besides Arthur got a problem with that?”

Merlin was about to voice a vigorous protest in answer to her question when he realized Morgana was directing the question to her own team mostly. Shoulders were shrugged and heads were shaken and Morgana seemed to take that as unanimous approval for her suggestion of the two teams working together. She ignored her brother’s scowl and turned to Merlin.

“So?” she asked, her eyebrow arching.

Merlin felt trapped. On the one hand, working with PPI meant working with Arthur Pendragon and he was less than eager to join forces with the arrogant prat. On the other hand, pooling their resources and expertise together would be beneficial in obtaining evidence they both sought; at the very least, not having to compete would increase the likelihood of a successful investigation. Since there was little else besides the Arthur factor that he could use to argue against such an alliance, he found himself nodding to indicate that his team was in, knowing that Gwaine, Lance, Will, Elena and Freya would concede to his decision (even if Will would likely complain about it for some time later).

Morgana smiled as Arthur deepened his scowl. She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to know each other then.”

Like Merlin’s team, PPI consisted of six core members. There was Arthur and Morgana, of course, who were essentially co-leaders though it seemed pretty obvious to everyone that Arthur thought of himself as leader and Morgana as his second-in-command. Merlin was reasonably sure that Morgana let Arthur believe that to keep things simple but would not be one to back down if the circumstances warranted it; she had already shown that she was a capable leader. There was Leon, tall and bearded, who was basically PPI’s Gwaine. There was Elyan and Percy, who were introduced as the ‘camera crew’, and Merlin couldn’t help noticing that the giant – Percy – was giving Freya an interested look. Will and Elyan were already comparing cameras and talking excitedly, and Merlin thought that was a good sign. And there was Gwen, PPI’s researcher. Merlin was quick to note that Gwen was very pretty, with smooth cafe latte skin, dark curly-hair, beautiful doe eyes, and an engaging smile. If the look on Lance’s face was any indication, Merlin wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Merlin hid a grin as his research expert pushed his glasses up, cleared his throat, and then ambled over to say hello to the pretty Gwen, who beamed back at him.

Both teams unpacked their equipment and belongings in the Great Hall and then a plan was drawn up for their collective investigation. It was decided that the members of each team would pair up in order to keep the working relationship between them solid and effective. Will and Freya, along with Elyan and Percy, would work together as the audio/visual crew. As the primary researchers, Lance and Gwen would work together. Morgana was to pair up with Gwaine, the BOO-Buster’s security while Elena was to pair up with Leon, PPI’s security. That left, of course, Merlin and Arthur.

“Guess it’s you and me, Mulder,” Arthur Pendragon said and Merlin caught the quirk of his lips. Ha very ha. 

“If you say so, Scully,” Merlin returned, not to be outwitted. At least he was the man in the pairing.

He expected another scowl from Arthur and was surprised to hear him chuckle in good humour. Apparently Arthur Pendragon could take a joke as well as dish one out. Maybe he wasn’t such a pompous arse, after all.

  


Merlin soon found out that he should have waited and reserved judgement on that call.

He and Arthur were in the west wing of the castle, prowling the corridors and rooms, looking for any signs of paranormal activity. Arthur had his fancy EMF detector out as well as a device used to pick up electromagnetic wave patterns. Merlin had similar equipment, not as fancy of course, but as usual was relying more on his ability to sense than anything else. He did not mention this to Arthur, of course, wanting to avoid ridicule but it seemed ridicule was to come nonetheless. 

“So. The BOO-Busters,” Arthur commented sardonically as they made their way down a long corridor. “Really?”

“Yeah, because Pendragon Paranormal Investigations is not pretentious at all,” Merlin returned just as dryly. 

“Well, at least we’re _professional investigators_ ,” Arthur defended ardently, “and not just a bunch of misfit yahoos running around chasing ghosts.” His eyes condescendingly raked over Merlin in his well-worn cargo pants and hoodie. “You know, I really don’t get why Kilgharrah would sponsor _you_ and your bungling gang of Scooby-doo ghost busters.”

Merlin stopped short, unable to prevent his mouth from dropping open, taken aback. _Misfit yahoos? Bungling gang of Scooby-doo ghost busters?_ Pendragon couldn’t be serious. 

He crossed his arms against his chest and narrowed his eyes at Arthur. Then he backed up against the stone wall, steeling himself to deliver a few choice but scathing words about just how much of a pompous arse Arthur Pendragon really was. How dare he insult Merlin’s team like that? But before he could even begin his diatribe, the wall seemed to shift behind him and he yelped out a startled cry. Arthur, for all his pompous arseness, reacted quickly, reaching out to him, but Merlin was already falling backward.

He grabbed hold of Arthur’s tactical vest for anchorage but this proved to be a bad idea and only resulted in pulling Arthur along with him, both of them plummeting – well, more like sliding – down – definitely down – a dark passageway that easily stretched thirty or forty metres.

They were dumped, finally, onto a hard, cold floor, pitch-black darkness surrounding them.

And, of course, Arthur had landed squarely on top of him, the force of his weight knocking the breath out of Merlin. Elbows jabbed into his sides and a knee not so delicately dug into his thigh as Arthur gained his wits and rolled off of him.

“You okay?” Arthur’s voice broke through the darkness. There was rustling and then a beam of light lit upon Merlin as Arthur evidently found his flashlight.

“I think your elbow punctured my kidney,” Merlin said, sitting up slowly. “But other than that, I’m fine. You?”

“Terrific,” Arthur replied and Merlin could feel him smirking. “Lucky for me, your bony arse broke my fall.”

Merlin dug around in his hoodie pocket for his own flashlight. Arthur was already on his feet, shining the light around to gain their bearings.

“What is this place?” Merlin asked, getting to his feet, slightly put out that Arthur hadn’t at least offered to help him up. After all, his heavy (Merlin deliberately left out ‘muscled’ in his mind) frame had landed on Merlin’s much leaner one and that was after Arthur had pretty much insulted him.

“Not sure,” Arthur said, now moving along one wall, mapping out the space and likely looking for an exit. “Probably one of the vaults underneath the castle.”

Merlin surveyed the dark space with his light as Arthur continued to map along the walls. At first, all he saw were what looked like old crates and a few scattered objects mostly piled up in one area, which he guessed was probably the centre of the ‘vault’ given that he could see Arthur’s beam of light mapping a wall on the other side. He pointed his light to where Arthur now was, his eyes fixed on the heavy metal gate beyond. Arthur pulled on the bars then cursed.

Merlin walked over to him, careful to light his path to avoid bumping into a crate or some miscellaneous object – were those scrolls on the ground? Arthur pulled on the gate and cursed some more. Then he tapped his headset.

“Leon? Perce? Morgana? Anybody there?”

From the look on Arthur’s face, Merlin was pretty sure he wasn’t getting a response.

He nodded at Merlin. “You got your walkie?”

Merlin felt around in his cargos but came up empty. Fuck, he cursed silently. Where had his two-way gone? He uttered another silent oath. A good ghost hunter never lost means of communication with team. 

“Probably fell out when we hit the floor,” Arthur said, quite generously Merlin thought considering not five minutes ago Arthur had called them a bungling bunch of Scooby-doo ghost busters.

Merlin flashed his light over to the spot they had landed, passing over the crates in the middle. Except there weren’t only just crates now. There were definitely objects, not the ones scattered about, but ones distinct, set apart by the fact that they were glowing.

“What the hell?” he murmured. He could make out two staffs, a chalice, a couple of crystals, some kind of decorative triskelion, and was that a trident?

“What?” Arthur said, making his way over to their landing site, apparently unperturbed by the glowing artifacts that had suddenly popped up.

Merlin stared at him. “Um, you don’t see them?”

“See what?”

Merlin waved his hand at the crates and the glowing artifacts. “That,” he said.

“You mean the crates?” Arthur’s face was visible from the light of the flashlights and at the moment it was looking rather pinched.

“Not the crates, Arthur! The other stuff. The stuff that’s _glowing_.”

Arthur’s mouth tipped into a frown. “Glowing? Did you hit your head on the floor or something, Merlin? ”

“Are you telling me you can’t see the artifacts over there that are freakin’ glowing?” Merlin asked with unsubtle exasperation. Arthur shook his head, his look similar. “Not even this trident – a freakin’ _trident_ , Arthur – here--” 

Merlin made to grab the trident so he could shove its glowing presence into Arthur’s face. But he was quickly thwarted by a screeching orb appearing suddenly and aggressively, causing Merlin to stumble backward and land on his behind on the hard, stone floor, his flashlight rolling off in the process.

Arthur jabbed his light at the orb which seemed to retreat to nowhere then traced it over Merlin whose wits had been scared out of him in large enough measure not to feel embarrassed about being sprawled on the floor again, this time without his flashlight.

“Fuck,” he said as Arthur helped him to his feet. “Freakin’ orbs.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Scared of an orb are you, Merlin?”

“Not scared,” Merlin returned even though he knew Arthur could see that his hands were shaking as he handed Merlin his flashlight. 

Arthur was shaking his head, a smirk visibly playing at his lips. “What kind of ghost hunter is scared of ghosts?”

“I’m not scared of ghosts,” Merlin maintained then added in an attempt to deflect, “And I thought you didn’t buy all that ghost crap anyway.”

Arthur seemed ready to retort, probably intending on giving Merlin a sermon on the differences between spirits, ghosts, apparitions and orbs and how science could explain most of what people claimed were “ghosts” but he was distracted by a loud crackle and a faint voice.

“Um, Merlin? You there?”

Arthur leaned over and picked up Merlin’s walkie talkie which had rather fortuitously appeared at his feet. Merlin rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands.

“Gwaine?” he said into the radio. 

There was more crackling, Gwaine’s voice coming through only faintly and rather broken up. Merlin and Arthur both listened carefully but they couldn’t make out anything Gwaine might have been saying, except the occasionally clear “Merlin?”

Arthur grabbed the two-way from Merlin, who yelled out in protest, and pushed the button on the radio. “Vaults. Underneath castle. Find us.” He repeated the same words three or four times then handed the radio back to Merlin. 

Merlin cocked an eyebrow. “I could have told him that, you know,” he said then, like a five year old, he added, “It’s my walkie talkie.”

“Yes, but chances are the radio would have gone dead before you and Gwaine finished your Abbott and Costello routine.”

Merlin huffed, looking back over at the pile of crates, determined to snatch that trident – orb or no orb - so he could poke Arthur Pendragon with it. 

But the glowing objects were gone. Or at least Merlin couldn’t see them anymore. He let out a sigh. Arthur raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

After thoroughly searching the vault for some way to get out and coming up completely empty, they finally settled on the floor against one wall, resigned to wait until Gwaine or somebody from Arthur’s team found them. Merlin could sense Arthur’s frustration with the situation; no doubt he was annoyed that he was stuck in a vault with Merlin but, really, Merlin had the right to be just as, if not more, annoyed.

Ten minutes passed in silence as well as darkness (Arthur had insisted that they conserve the batteries of their flashlights by switching them off), and Merlin wondered how long they would be able to go without talking before someone found them. He may have been a talker by nature (Will often accused him of verbal vomit, which was really quite unfair) but Merlin refused to be the one to break the silence. 

Surprisingly, it was Arthur who first spoke. “So, are you one of those – what do you call them – _intuitives_ , or something?” 

Merlin found it interesting that Arthur had used the term “intuitive” and not “psychic”.

“I can sort of sense things, yeah,” Merlin said, feeling oddly vulnerable about opening up to Arthur Pendragon, his supposed rival. Arthur was a known sceptic and talking about being able to sense things that were paranormal would likely open him up to ridicule or at the very least earn him a laugh at his own expense. 

“Morgana says she can sense things, too,” Arthur said unexpectedly.

“Like what?” Merlin asked before he realized he probably shouldn’t have. He and Arthur were on shaky truce grounds, after all. 

“Paranormal stuff,” Arthur replied. “She’s not very specific.”

“Freya isn’t usually very specific about what she can sense either,” Merlin told him. “Not like me. I can be very specific. Like glowing artifacts-specific.”

Arthur huffed out a laugh. “You’re not still seeing those, are you?”

“No,” he replied. “But it doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“Fair enough.” 

“So how long do you think it’ll take them to find us?” Merlin asked.

“Probably not too much longer,” Arthur said and Merlin wondered if Arthur was just trying to placate him. “Think we could probably get away with a quick nap at any rate.”

Merlin chuckled. Though he hadn’t really been contemplating a nap, quick or otherwise, he found his eyes closing, and he told himself that a short doze would wile the time away more quickly.

_He was holding a crystal in his hands, not the glowing amber one he remembered seeing nestled on top of the crates but the one that had been more opaque – and glowing – that was a bit larger, filling his hands. It was as though the crystal wanted Merlin to look into it – which was ridiculous because even Merlin understood that crystals were inanimate and couldn’t compel one do anything – but the urge to look was strong and he soon found himself staring into it._

_The images began to form slowly. A hillside battle. The armour, shields, and swords hinted at the medieval period in which knights fought as soldiers. Bodies were everywhere, the death toll of the battle evidently high. Two soldiers, though, remained, now pitted against each other. One was dark and formidable and Merlin sensed a kind of power emanating from him. The other was blonde and golden, his skill as a warrior evident as he defended against and advanced upon the other soldier. His face wasn’t clear but he reminded Merlin of someone, someone he couldn’t quite place._

_The golden warrior thrust his sword forward, catching the dark mage off-guard, the sword striking his midsection, plunging in. The golden warrior withdrew his sword, victorious, but collapsed to his knees, obviously exhausted from battle. The dark mage clutched his abdomen where the sword had pierced it, still standing but fading quickly toward death. He stretched out his hand, making one last attempt to fell the warrior..._

_Merlin heard himself screaming, “Arthur!”_

The loud rattling of bars and the calling of his name woke him. Startled, Merlin looked around to gain his bearings. Nothing but darkness surrounded him and he remembered that he was on a job in Camelot Castle. They were in a vault somewhere underneath the castle and were waiting for Gwaine to find them.

Merlin saw two beams of light at the gate. He jumped to his feet, switching on his own flashlight, and rushed over to find Gwaine and Lance on the other side.

“Am I ever glad to see you,” he expressed. “We tumbled down some hidden passage and got dumped in here. Think it’s some kind of vault or something.”

“Where’s Pendragon?” Gwaine asked. He tucked his flashlight into the crook of his arm and started tracing the gate with his hands, looking for a way to unlock it. 

“He’s just over--” Merlin answered, giving a look over his shoulder to where he and Arthur had settled and had obviously dozed off. 

But Arthur wasn’t there. 

Merlin called out to him but received no response. He darted around the vault, calling Arthur’s name, as Gwaine and Lance worked on breaking open the gate. Arthur had probably fallen asleep and perhaps he was a really sound sleeper. He looked against every wall, on top of and in between the crates but there was no sign of Arthur. 

“Oh, that’s just great,” Merlin groused bitterly just as Gwaine was able to work the gate open. “The bastard must have found a way out while I was dozing and then just left me here to rot!” 

Nonetheless, Merlin, Gwaine and Lance did a quick search of the vault, looking for Arthur, but Arthur was nowhere to be found – at least not within the confines of the vault. Satisfied that they had turned all stones, they headed back to the Great Hall. 

“Where is he?” Merlin demanded as soon as they returned to the hub of their operation.

“Where’s who?” Morgana asked.

“Arthur.”

Morgana looked puzzled. “We thought he was with you,” she told him, motioning for Leon to join them. “It was Arthur’s voice Gwaine heard on his two-way.”

“Wait. He didn’t come back?”

Morgana shook her head. “We sent Gwaine and Lance to look for you two.” She looked from Gwaine to Lance to Merlin. “They obviously found you. So where’s my brother?”

Merlin let out a breath. He told Morgana and Leon how he and Arthur had tumbled down some hidden passageway and had landed in some kind of vault beneath the castle. They hadn’t been able to find a way out and had called for help using Merlin’s walkie talkie since Arthur’s headset hadn’t appeared to be working. He told her they must have dozed off while waiting and that he had been awoken by Gwaine and Lance pulling at the gate. And somehow during the time he was dozing, Arthur had disappeared.

“Disappeared?” Morgana commented, and Merlin could see her worry in the way her teeth were fraying her bottom lip. “Where could he have gone?” Her green eyes peered intensely at Merlin. “Did you come across anything unusual in the vault?”

“Well,” Merlin said, flicking a hand out in nonchalance. “At first there was all that glowing stuff and when I went to grab the trident so I could poke Arthur in the ribs with it to make a point, an orb came swooping down all screaming and badass then just disappeared. Does that count as unusual?”

Morgana, Gwaine and Leon were looking at him, their expressions ranging from mildly incredulous to outright stunned.

“Um, glowing stuff?”Leon questioned.

“Trident?” added Gwaine.

“Badass orb?” continued Morgana.

Merlin shrugged. He didn’t bother telling them about the vivid dream he had had about looking into the crystal and seeing Arthur – well, not _Arthur_ Arthur but some version of Arthur or his ancestor – battling with some kind of dark sorcerer and not fairing too well. While he knew Gwaine and Lance would take it in stride, Merlin couldn’t be sure what Leon or Morgana’s reaction would be so he thought it best to keep it to himself for now.

“Well, glowing tridents are new,” Gwaine drawled, “but antagonizing badass orbs is pretty much par-for-the-course for Merlin.”

“I wasn’t antagonizing it,” Merlin argued and Gwaine just grinned. 

“We should set up some cameras in the vault,” Leon suggested, going into investigation mode. "Maybe we’ll capture video of some glowing objects or, um, badass orbs.” 

Morgana was nodding. “We’re already setting some up in the burial vaults,” she said, catching Merlin up to speed. “But we need to find Arthur.”

“Agreed,” Leon said. “Gwaine and I could start a search.”

But Morgana was shaking her head. “No, we need at least one of you to oversee the set up for security purposes,” she said and Merlin found he was impressed with the way Morgana Pendragon easily took the reins of leadership. “Leon can do that while Gwaine, Merlin and I look for Arthur.” She looked at Merlin. “That is, if you agree that’s the best way to do it.”

Merlin nodded. “Lance can take point for the BOO-Busters,” he said, appreciating that she had asked his opinion. Unlike her brother, Morgana was not a pompous arse.

Merlin and Morgana gave instructions to their teams about setting up equipment in various parts of the castle and then, with Gwaine in tow, they went in search of Arthur. They started in the west wing and made their way around to the north central wing, searching in rooms and alcoves and everywhere in between. Arthur had to be somewhere. He couldn’t have just vanished, right?

Merlin was ahead of Gwaine and Morgana in a stretch of corridor, his stomach rumbling loudly to remind him he hadn’t eaten since six o’clock that morning, and he idly wondered if he might suggest they take a food break before tackling the south wing. He looked back at them over his shoulder, the suggestion on his lips, as he rounded the slight bend in the hallway.

And ran smack into Arthur Pendragon.

“Arthur!” he exclaimed, stunned.

Arthur blinked at him. “Merlin?”

“Oh my god, Arthur!” Morgana said, rushing toward them. She grabbed Arthur’s shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. “Where have you been?”

Arthur’s face pinched in confusion. Physically, Merlin noted, he looked fine. But he appeared slightly dazed, as if his thoughts were clouded over and he was trying to sort them out.

“I—I don’t know,” Arthur said. “I was in that vault with Merlin waiting to be found and I guess I must have dozed off for a bit. The next thing I remember is sitting at that table in the bedchamber.”

“What bedchamber?” Morgana asked. Merlin could see Gwaine already on the alert.

Arthur pointed toward a room down the corridor. “Just there.” Merlin glanced at Gwaine and Gwaine immediately jogged in that direction. Arthur’s face became pinched. “The weird thing is that the room is furnished like we’re on the set of some medieval film. And I thought that round table in the great hall was a bit much.”

Morgana darted a quick glance at Merlin as Gwaine called out to them, “Hey, come check this out.” 

She pulled on the sleeve of Merlin’s hoodie to hold him back a little as the three went to join Gwaine. “Something’s not right with him,” Morgana whispered, gesturing toward Arthur’s back. Merlin raised an eyebrow. “My brother doesn’t use words like ‘bedchamber’,” Morgana explained and Merlin had to hold in a laugh. Surely, the use of a word like ‘bedchamber’ could not be grounds for thinking Arthur might be possessed? They were in a medieval castle, after all. But Morgana looked sufficiently concerned that Merlin thought it would probably be best to subject Arthur to Elena’s possession test, even if Arthur was likely to scoff and protest adamantly. 

Arthur hadn’t been kidding when he said the ‘bedchamber’ looked like it was the set of some medieval film. There was a large poster bed with a gold and crimson coverlet, two ornate dressers, a dressing screen, and a 5th century (Merlin was guessing) desk complete with parchments, quills and a bottle of ink. 

What the bloody fuck? was what Merlin was thinking and he was pretty sure Gwaine and Morgana were having the same thought.

“I’ll check out the other rooms in this corridor,” Gwaine said, nodding at Merlin and Morgana. “You should get Arthur back to the Great Hall and have Elena check him out.” 

“Oh, does Elena have some medical training?” Morgana asked.

“Something like that,” Gwaine answered, darting a quick glance at Merlin. Merlin was sure Gwaine was itching to share something else but probably wanted to wait until they were alone before doing so. 

“I’m fine,” Arthur insisted as Morgana steered him out of the chamber, Merlin following closely behind. “I don’t need some ghost chaser to practice hoodoo first aid on me.”

Gwaine chuckled loudly and Merlin smothered his own laugh behind his hand. Hoodoo first aid was not that far off, he thought, grinning.

  


“For the last time,” Arthur said impatiently, “I’m not possessed!”

“Of course you’re not, sweetie,” Elena said to him, tapping his cheek gently. “We’re just going to make absolutely sure, is all.” She continued trying to administer her series of ‘tests’.

Arthur huffed out a long-suffering sigh, giving Morgana and Merlin a look that clearly said he was angry and annoyed. Morgana simply shrugged at her brother while Merlin did his best to look smug.

“Merlin was in the vault with me,” Arthur pointed out. “How come you’re not checking to see if _he’s_ possessed?” 

“Because, silly,” Elena began to explain as though Arthur was a small child. “Merlin’s wearing his anti-possession amulet.”

Merlin reached a hand down his hoodie, pulling out the black obsidian dragon pendant he usually wore, and waggled it at Arthur. Arthur narrowed his blues eyes at Merlin, his mouth setting into a grim line. “Okay, I can see there’s no reasoning with you people. So let’s just get on with this then,” Arthur finally acquiesced. Merlin saw Elena’s face light up with child-like glee. She was always happiest when she was given rein to do her unique brand of psychic mojo. 

When he returned to the Great Hall, Gwaine pulled Merlin and Morgana to the side.

“There are four rooms in that wing that have been visited by our resident medieval decorator, each with a bed at least,” he told them. He reached into his backpack to pull out something. “Look, I didn’t want to bring this up while we were all together earlier,” he nodded toward Arthur who was making a show of rolling his eyes as Elena held a crystal in front of his face, “but when I first checked out that room Arthur said he had come to in, I found this.” Gwaine held out what looked like a scroll of parchment paper.

Morgana took it and unrolled it, letting out a quiet gasp when she saw what was there. On the parchment, in black ink, had been written, “ _I, King Arthur, hereby declare.._.”

“Oh my god,” Morgana said, putting a hand to her mouth. “That’s Arthur’s handwriting.”

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked. 

Morgana nodded. She looked over at her brother who was adamantly telling Elena that his sex life was none of her business and that he most certainly was going to be swearing if she kept asking him about it. “You think he’s possessed?” 

Merlin considered for a moment. It did not seem that any of Elena’s tests were coming up positive and Arthur had shown none of the usual signs of possession – excessive swearing, speaking oddly, being overtly sexual, thrashing around, or sudden lashing out. Admittedly, he was bursting with emotion – mostly anger and annoyance – and his eyes were rolling back in his head – mostly out of exasperation - but those behaviours were to be expected. Merlin supposed being subjected to a gang of misfit ghost busters and all their awesomeness could do that to a man. “If Arthur _was_ possessed,” he said finally, “I don’t think he is now.” 

Gwaine nodded at Merlin. “You’re not sensing anything?” 

Merlin shook his head. Then he looked at Morgana. “Are you?”

Morgana looked at him with surprise. 

“Arthur told me you can sense things,” Merlin explained. 

“I’m surprised,” she said with a laugh. “My brother thinks my sensing ability is a bunch of gobbly-gook.”

“Is that a technical term?” Gwaine teased.

“It’s an Arthur term,” Morgana replied, giving Gwaine a wink. If Merlin didn’t know any better, he would have thought he saw Gwaine blush.

Merlin sensed that there was something budding between his security expert and PPI’s co-leader. And he didn’t need his intuitive abilities for that.

  


Elena declared Arthur possession-free to which Arthur promptly responded with “Thank fuck for that!” then clapped a hand over his mouth when Elena narrowed her eyes at him, grumbling something that sounded like, “Doesn’t count.”

Leon and Lance caught Merlin, Arthur, Morgana and Gwaine up to speed on the teams’ activities which had involved setting up cameras in the burial crypt Will and Elyan had found and in the vault where Merlin had been accosted (Merlin preferred ‘startled’ but Will thought ‘accosted’ sounded tougher and he was probably right) by the orb.

After enjoying a quick meal from the stores they had brought (Merlin was famished and ended up eating three sandwiches with Elena cautioning him that he’d wind up with indigestion the way he was inhaling his food), it was decided that they would break up into shifts to observe the potential goings-on in the vaults and elsewhere in the castle. Rather than make camp in the Great Hall as they had originally planned, Gwaine made the suggestion that the teams make use of the furnished rooms in the north central wing to get some good shut-eye. 

“Is it safe?” asked Freya. Merlin noticed Will moving closer to her in a protective gesture and watched Percy’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“Think so,” Gwaine told her then grinned. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

Morgana, Freya, Elena and Gwen took one of the rooms while Gwaine, Will and Lance took another and Leon, Percy, and Elyan settled on taking a third. This, of course, left Merlin with Arthur, who said nothing as he staked a claim on the most stately of the rooms, the one he had ‘woken up’ in after disappearing from the vault. 

Merlin had quite expected Arthur to take the sizeable bed while dismissively relegating Merlin to the floor, like he was some kind of servant, but he surprised Merlin by insisting that Merlin take the bed while he slept on the floor. Merlin might have accepted this as a grand gesture on Arthur’s part – or at least an attempt to extend an olive branch – but Arthur’s follow up comment that he was wary that the furniture would magically disappear as quickly as it had appeared revealed his true nature and intent. 

After carefully laying out his floor bed, Arthur fiddled with his wristwatch, setting the alarm. “I’ll wake you when it’s our shift in the tombs,” he told Merlin, settling down on his sleeping bag, turning his back toward Merlin. 

Merlin eyed the poster bed, debating whether it was really a good idea to lay down on it or whether it would be wiser to make camp on the floor like Arthur. He finally decided to go with the bed – mostly because it was the opposite of what Arthur had done and Merlin felt like he needed to make a statement. Or something like that. So he toed off his trainers and let them fall next to the bed as he laid down on top of the coverlet. Although it was cool and damp in the castle, Merlin was not keen on getting under the covers of the, admittedly soft and comfortable, ghost-bed and instead left his hoodie on to keep the night chills at bay. He had noticed that Arthur had taken both his boots and tactical vest off and Merlin absolutely did not notice how broad his shoulders were or how well-muscled his chest seemed in the snug-fitting black t-shirt. 

Merlin closed his eyes, determined to get some sleep. The events of the day had been unsettling and not just because he had fallen into a vault where there were oddly glowing artifacts and a screaming orb, a vault in which they could find no way out of but Arthur had disappeared from nonetheless. Even more unsettling was the fact that it seemed Arthur had written words on a parchment scroll that he had no recollection of and had not appeared to be possessed, though he might well have been at the time of making declarations in the name of his ancestor and probable namesake. Merlin darted a glance at the desk opposite the dormant fireplace and shivered. Freakin’ medieval ghosts.

Merlin judged that he couldn’t have been asleep for more than five minutes when he became aware of a weight on top of him. He lifted heavy eyelids open and found Arthur stretched on top of him, his naked body pressed intimately against Merlin’s, his mouth exploring Merlin’s lips and neck. Soft moans broke the quietness and, while at first Merlin thought the moans were coming from Arthur, he soon realized the sounds were spilling from his own lips as Arthur moved from kissing his neck to licking and sucking on his shoulders and collarbone. 

Arthur lifted his body up to move further down Merlin’s body, trailing a path with his tongue, nipping lightly at his flesh. Arthur’s blue eyes peeked up at him from under his eyelashes and Merlin was struck by how surreally beautiful and ethereal he looked in the firelight. When had the fireplace been lit? Merlin vaguely wondered. He felt heady with arousal, his body aching with unbridled lust. Merlin fisted Arthur’s hair and arched up in anticipation, letting out a gasp when Arthur took the head of his cock into his mouth and sucked.

Arthur’s mouth on him was intoxicating. It was both too much and not enough and Merlin was torn between wanting to shove his cock further into and coming down Arthur’s throat and needing to hold off the impending crescendo in hopes of capturing a much better prize. 

But Arthur decided for him, suddenly pulling his mouth off with a pop, and settling between Merlin’s thighs. He lifted Merlin’s legs up and back, exposing the tight ring of muscle hidden between his cheeks. Arthur licked at his hole then pushed his tongue in, causing Merlin to arch his hips up from the bed. He groaned freely as Arthur tongued his hole, attempting to loosen the muscle and lubricate the passage. Merlin let his head fall back as Arthur went about preparing him, his breathing a mixture of lustful gasps and raspy moans. 

Arthur took his cock in hand and rubbed it over Merlin’s entrance, nudging the head at the spit-moistened hole. Merlin whispered encouragement, lust-addled and needy. It didn’t matter that Arthur was a right prat whom Merlin barely knew or that they were taking a careless risk by not using protection. Merlin wanted Arthur deep inside him. He would not feel whole – would never feel whole - until that happened. 

The initial pain of Arthur’s intrusion gave way to pleasure more quickly than it had ever had, reinforcing Merlin’s belief that this was right – that their lovemaking was right. Arthur thrust strongly and deeply, drawing out sharp moans from Merlin. Arthur was buried fully inside him but it still wasn’t enough for Merlin so he canted his hips upward and met Arthur’s thrusts with his own frantic ones, needing to feel Arthur even deeper inside him. 

Merlin could see Arthur’s face through the lust haze that surrounded them and knew it must mirror his own – cheeks flushed red, beads of sweat on his temples and upper lip, jaw hanging open, eyes wild with desire, pupils blown wide. Seeing Arthur so utterly wrecked like that, it took everything in Merlin’s power to stave off the building climax, and it wasn’t until Arthur hit his peak and erupted that Merlin allowed himself to do the same, crying out “Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur_!” as he shot warm stickiness all over his chest. He felt Arthur judder as the orgasm washed through him and then abated, his body collapsing on top of Merlin as he came crashing down from the high.

When Merlin awoke, he was aware of three very important things. First, he was fully clothed, the only part of his attire missing were his trainers which he had taken off and set by the bed before laying down on the coverlet. Second, although he could only make out a form in the darkness, it was clear that Arthur was asleep on the floor, still a good ten metres away from the bed. And third, there was definitely no fire in the fireplace; it looked as dormant as it had when Merlin had fallen asleep.

Had it all been just a dream?

Merlin tried to shake the vivid images of the dream from his head. But it wasn’t just the images that plagued him. It was the feeling of intimacy he had shared with Arthur, an intimacy that had felt so very right. 

His body was still tingling with the physical and emotional feelings that had been stirred by the sex dream when Merlin finally fell back asleep.

  


When Arthur woke him for their shift in the burial vault, Merlin had to pretty much drag himself from sleep. His mind felt unbelievably heavy and clouded. And his body ached all over, like he’d been in a fierce battle with an army of ghosts or like he was coming off of a night full of wild and rough sex.

Oh, crap.

He glanced at Arthur who was already packed up and back into investigator’s mode, no visible trace of having spent the last few hours engaging in wild dream sex. Merlin released a quiet sigh. At least he’d be spared some embarrassment and only have to deal with the awkwardness of looking at Arthur and remembering how good he had felt inside him.

In the burial crypts, Will and Percy were readjusting the camera equipment and recorders.

“Anything happen the last shift?” Arthur asked and Percy shook his head.

“Dead silent,” Will said then grinned. Merlin knew Will lived for opportunities to make bad puns.

Arthur rolled his eyes and joined Percy, asking for a rundown of the shift Elena and Leon had just completed. Merlin flopped down on the cold floor next to Will who had his back resting against one of the old crypts. If there was anything to tell, Will would have already spilled it. 

The first two hours of their shift passed in relative silence with the occasional grunt of acknowledgement between the four of them. Merlin expressly avoided speaking to or even looking at Arthur, the images from the dream still very vivid. A couple of times, Merlin thought he had caught Arthur looking at him, but the crypt was lit so dimly and the looks passed so quickly that Merlin couldn’t be sure he had seen anything. He resolved to focusing his attention anywhere in the crypt but on Arthur (who was distracting even by just sitting there) and tried to hone his intuitive abilities in hopes of sensing some paranormal activity. It was a bloody crypt full of dead people, after all.

A half hour later, Merlin rolled out the kinks in his neck and was about to call their watch a dud and suggest they pack it in when all of a sudden things started to happen in a very big way. 

A staff appeared in the middle of the crypt, stuck into the stone of the floor, its head formed by gnarly tree-like branches. It was one of the staffs Merlin had seen glowing in the vault. Almost as soon as it appeared, the staff-head lit up and shot beams of light across the crypt. All four men jumped to their feet, Will and Percy grabbing their cameras.

“What the hell?” Will said as a dozen or so skeletal apparitions began to emerge from the light beams, screeching as they swooped down around them.

“Percy, you getting this?” Arthur yelled out to his camera man, trying to shield himself from the screeching skeletons that were swooping down on him.

A group of skeleton ghosts locked onto Percy who was filming steadfastly and rushed at him, the force of their power knocking Percy, who was a very large man, off his feet and into the nearest wall. Merlin watched as the big man slid down the wall and slumped at the base. This was Merlin and Will’s cue to seek refuge. Will scrambled behind one tomb, letting his camera peek out around it, and Merlin dove behind another, his mind racing to come up with a plan to deal with these skeleton ghosts. In all their years of ghost-hunting, they had never come across ghosts that were actual skeletons. 

It was only when he peeked around the stone box that Merlin realized Arthur hadn’t sought refuge like he and Will had. This was because he hadn’t been able to. With Percy, Will and Merlin out of the way, most of the skeleton ghosts had focused their attention on Arthur and were now surrounding him. He watched Arthur bat at them ineffectually and wanted to shout out that batting at ghosts was only likely to piss them off more (really, what kind of ghost hunter was Arthur Pendragon if he didn’t already know that?) but Merlin did not want to risk calling attention to himself lest the boney bunch decide to switch focus so he simply rolled his eyes instead. 

The ghosts had Arthur pinned to the floor of the crypt, hovering all around him, shrieking so loud it made Merlin’s ears hurt. He thought he heard Arthur calling out to him, but it was difficult to hear anything beyond the high-pitched shrieks. Merlin knew he had to do something to help Arthur but he really didn’t know what. Skeleton ghosts were another first this job had brought.

Like he usually did, Merlin acted on instinct. He got up and moved out from behind the tomb. His legs felt like jelly and were shaking badly but he tried to cast his fears aside as he made his way toward Arthur, instinctually yelling out things in the hope that it would drive the skeleton ghosts away.

“ _Astrice!...Flieh on nu moras!...Awendap eft wansaelega neat!.. Forp fleoge!_ ”

The words seemed to have little effect at first as they were most likely being drowned out by the loud shrieks. Merlin repeated them over and over until the ghosts finally took notice and started to withdraw their attack on Arthur, either retreating voluntarily or being effectively cast away. Merlin was able to drive away the few hardy ones that remained with a strong and loud, “ _Ablinn du, forlaet du nu!_ ” 

Skeleton ghosts now gone, he turned to Arthur, extending his hand to help him up and was not surprised to see Arthur looking at him like he had sprouted a unicorn horn on each of his two heads. It was the usual reaction to Merlin’s what-the-bloody-fuck-is-that-language-speak so he wasn’t really offended. Much.

Arthur took the offered hand and let Merlin haul him to his feet. He gave Merlin a puzzled look and then rushed over to the slumped form of Percy. Merlin understood that Percy’s well-being was a priority and that, as team leader, Arthur was responsible for the safety of his team members and it wasn’t like he had been expecting Arthur to present a thank you banner or anything, but a quietly murmured “thanks” for saving Arthur’s arse from a bunch of skeleton ghosts would have been nice.

Percy was conscious, and Merlin helped Arthur get Percy to his feet while Will gathered up the cameras and equipment. They made their way to the Great Hall, Arthur offering support to Percy who was a little unsteady on his feet but otherwise okay, and Merlin helping Will carry the equipment. 

They had a story to tell the rest of the group at least.

  


“What do you mean, there’s no useable footage?” Arthur said in disbelief.

“There’s nothing. Nada. Zero. Ziltch,” Will responded, and Merlin was sure Arthur was going to blow his top. “The camera was damaged when those skeleton ghost bastards flung Percy into the wall and we can’t seem to retrieve any of the data from it.”

“What about your camera?” Arthur demanded. “Or did you forget to push play while you were hiding behind that tomb like a scared little girl?”

Will’s face turned red with rage. “Fuck you, Pendragon!” he yelled and Gwaine quickly restrained him before he could land a punch to Arthur’s face.

“Arthur!” Morgana scolded sternly and Merlin followed with an angrily indignant, “Will knows how to do his job, you prick!”

“Look,” Lance interjected, trying to infuse calm into the otherwise ready-to-blow situation. “We’ve gone over the video and sound recordings from both sets of equipment. Both Percy and Will did their jobs. There just isn’t anything there. All the video is scrambled and the sound recordings are nothing but white noise.”

“How is that possible?” Arthur wanted to know. “There were moving spectres. There was fucking EVP.” Merlin supposed swooping and shrieking skeleton ghosts counted as moving spectres and electronic voice patterns.

Lance shrugged. “What can I say? Your ghosts must have screwed with the audio and visual,” he said. 

Lance rejoined Gwen at the Round Table where they resumed looking at the data from the other cameras that had been set up in the treasure vault. Merlin noticed that the two of them were sitting close, their heads bent together, their conversation whispered. Any other time, he would delight in being happy for his friend and what appeared to be a budding relationship, but Merlin was too busy being monumentally pissed off at Arthur at the moment that he couldn’t even feel a nugget of happiness for Lance and Gwen.

Merlin rounded on Arthur, ready to give him a piece of his mind, but something in Arthur’s expression stopped him from venting full out. He could still see the exasperation etched there but there was something soft, too, almost as though Arthur was issuing an unspoken apology. There was something else there, as well, something Merlin didn’t trust himself to believe. It was want, desire. He had seen it in Arthur’s face in his dreams, had sensed it in Arthur’s body language and had felt it in the way Arthur touched him. Merlin could feel it now even though they were both wide awake. 

So instead of giving Arthur the chewing out he deserved, what Merlin ended up saying was, “You’re such a jerk!” Then he turned heel and quickly exited the Great Hall before the feelings stirred by the dream became rather embarrassingly apparent.

  


Of course, Arthur followed him into the corridor. He caught Merlin by the arm and Merlin huffed out a sigh, reluctantly turning to face him.

“Look, are we going to talk about it or are we just going to pretend like nothing happened?” Arthur threw out. “Because, believe me, I’m all for pretending, if that’s the way you want to go.”

Merlin gave Arthur a puzzled look. “W-What?” Was Arthur calling him out on what had happened in the crypts ? Was he really that arrogant that he couldn’t deal with admitting Merlin had actually saved his arse by casting off those skeleton ghosts?

Arthur rolled his eyes. “The _dream_ , Merlin,” he explained. Merlin tried not to goggle at him but failed epically. “Fuck, it was so real,” he expressed, his eyes getting a faraway look before snapping back to Merlin’s face. “And the way you’ve been acting, I know I can’t be the only one who had it.”

“The way I’ve been _acting_?” Merlin asked. 

“Yeah, like someone who had a very vivid sex dream and now desperately wants to avoid the person he had such very vivid sex with,” Arthur said sardonically.

Merlin blushed scarlet. Just thinking about said very vivid sex made him feel beyond embarrassed. He had _moaned_ , for chrissakes. And not only that. He had shamelessly let Arthur suck his cock and tongue his hole and had practically begged Arthur to fuck him hard and deep, which had resulted in him coming all over himself and Arthur. And although Merlin would die before admitting it to Arthur Pendragon, it had been the best sex he had ever had in his life and how fucking pathetic was that? But then he remembered how wrecked Arthur had looked and the moans that had escaped _his_ lips and wondered. 

“How do you know we had the same dream?” Merlin challenged, aiming to deflect.

Arthur shrugged, crossing his arms against his chest. “I don’t know,” he said, giving Merlin a penetrating look. Whatever he saw seemed to bolster his confidence. “I’m just pretty sure we did.”

Merlin felt the heat rise in his cheeks. If Arthur had had the same dream as Merlin...

Arthur watched Merlin’s reactions unfold, almost seeming to be amused by Merlin’s obvious embarrassment. Then Arthur leaned in close to Merlin’s ear and whispered, “It’s okay to admit you enjoyed having me fuck your brains out, Merlin.”

Merlin felt the tips of his ears turn red but he managed to return, “And it’s okay for you to admit you enjoyed fucking my brains out, _Arthur_.”

Merlin was surprised to hear Arthur chuckle. “Can’t argue with that,” he said, giving Merlin a wink. Then he turned and left Merlin standing in the corridor, his mouth wide open and gaping.

What the bloody hell had Arthur meant by that?

  


Merlin accompanied Gwaine on one of his rounds through the castle. He had some nagging thoughts that really needed some out loud time.

“So, are you having any, um, strange dreams?” Merlin asked casually as they passed through what must have been the castle’s kitchen some point in time. 

“You mean stranger than usual?”

“I mean, strange like a very intimate and vivid dream of having sex with someone you would definitely never _ever_ think about having sex with.”

Gwaine stopped abruptly and raised an eyebrow. “You and Princess Pendragon?” Merlin blushed – how the hell had Gwaine guessed that? - and Gwaine followed this up with a gleeful, “Oh, do tell.”

Merlin provided Gwaine with vague details of his dream in which he and Arthur rather enthusiastically coupled. From the way Gwaine’s lips quirked, Merlin could tell Gwaine was teetering on grinning full-out, though he was trying not to show he was enjoying Merlin’s story way too much. “And the strangest thing of all,” Merlin continued, glaring at his security expert and friend, “is that Arthur apparently had the exact same dream.”

This made Gwaine’s eyebrows raise with more seriousness. “Exact as in...?”

“Down to the last detail,” Merlin told him, his cheeks flushing hot. “Or pretty much.”

“Awkward,” Gwaine commented.

“You’re telling me,” Merlin murmured back.

  


Arthur was the one to suggest switching up the sleeping arrangements later that evening. Merlin knew what he was thinking: that any dreams would bypass them if they were not in the same room together. It was the same thought Merlin had had.

So instead of sharing the chamber with Merlin, Arthur joined his teammates Leon, Percival and Elyan.

But the dream still came. This time, Merlin found himself astride Arthur, his hips rocking downward, his need to have Arthur’s cock deeper inside him desperate and strong. Arthur had his head flung back, neck exposed, his lips parted, panting. He looked completely wrecked and Merlin had never wanted anyone like he wanted Arthur right at that moment. 

“You know this is a dream, right?” Merlin heard himself saying, his sub consciousness apparently kicking in through his sleep consciousness. 

Dream Arthur grinned up at him. He cupped the back of Merlin’s neck and pulled Merlin down to him. “Yeah,” Merlin heard him say. “Want you like crazy,” he whispered against Merlin’s lips before taking them in a kiss that literally took Merlin’s breath away.

Merlin returned to his straddling position and rocked his hips down onto Arthur’s magnificent cock. 

“Oh fuck, Merlin,” Arthur panted out. “You feel so good. Keep fucking yourself down on me like that.”

Merlin sped up the pace of his rocking, eager to drive Arthur over the edge. He wanted Arthur to come undone under him, wanted to feel the shockwave of Arthur’s orgasm as it ran through his body and to feel the warmth of Arthur’s seed as it filled him. Merlin knew it was just a dream but, _gods_ , he wanted it all the same.

Merlin came first, shooting across Arthur’s stomach and chest. He felt Arthur’s hips jerk and then warmth filled him, accompanied by a string of “Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...” from Arthur’s lips.

“Merlin!”

Merlin awoke with a start and found Arthur hovering over him, trying to shake him awake. Merlin slowly pulled himself from the heavy sleep. He scrubbed a hand over his face. It felt like he hadn’t slept a wink. He wondered if Arthur had.

“Did you...?”

“Dream?” Arthur finished for him. He raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he answered. Obviously separating didn’t work.” He passed a hand over his face, the tired gesture telling Merlin that Arthur had managed to catch about as much sleep as he had. 

There were questions Merlin wanted to ask Arthur about the dream so he did his best to push aside his embarrassment to ask bluntly, “We talked in this dream, didn’t we?”

Arthur appeared to blush and he turned away from Merlin to give his answer. “Yes. You asked me if I knew it was a dream and I told you yes.” There was a twenty second pause before Arthur turned to look at him and said, “I also told you I wanted you like crazy and then asked you to fuck yourself down on me because you felt so good.” Arthur darted a glance to the floor then settled his gaze back on Merlin, an odd sort of vulnerability in his expression. “Is that what happened in your dream?”

Merlin swallowed then nodded.

“Okay,” Arthur said, as though he were trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together. “As far as I know, we’re the only ones having these dreams, right?” Merlin nodded. “And apparently we’re able to communicate in these dreams.” Merlin nodded again. “But why?” Merlin shrugged. “Why are we--” he gestured at the two of them “—having dreams in which we’re having bloody fucking fantastic sex--” Merlin raised his eyebrows “—and being able to talk to each other mid-dream-fuck but not able to pull ourselves out of the dream or prevent it from occurring in the first place.” He gave Merlin a look. “Am I missing something? What the fuck is it all supposed to mean?”

Merlin stared at Arthur. He had no answer. He hadn’t yet gotten past Arthur expressing that their dream sex was ‘bloody fucking fantastic’ to even begin thinking what any of it could possibly mean.

Arthur shocked him even further by asking suddenly, “What about that psychic chick on your team? She know much about dreams or is she strictly a fortune teller who gets off on doing exorcisms on the side?”

Merlin blinked at him. “Um,” he said, finally finding his voice. “Yeah, I think Elena might know something about dreams.” 

“Okay, good,” Arthur replied with surprising calm. “Let’s go see what she has to say.”

  


They had agreed to keep the details of their shared dreams vague and general when asking Elena about what she thought they might mean. Still, Merlin sensed that Elena knew he wasn’t being completely honest with her. He might have felt bad about it, except that it would have been completely mortifying to have to divulge to Elena any of the details of the dreams they had had. Elena was a free spirit who made no judgements but she really didn’t need to hear how Arthur had dream-fucked Merlin senseless two nights in a row.

“Well, obviously there’s a psychic connection between you,” Elena said after they had told her the condensed, downgraded to very G version of their shared dreams. 

“Obviously,” Arthur said, not bothering to hide the mild sarcasm. Merlin stuck his tongue out at him, making Elena giggle. “But what does it mean?”

Elena looked to reflect a moment then said, “You know, what I think might be happening is that these dreams are the spirits’ way of providing a distraction.”

“A distraction?” Arthur asked before Merlin could.

“Well, you know, Merlin’s got strong sensing abilities and, really, there’s never been a haunting he hasn’t been able to resolve,” Elena answered. “In short, Merlin is a kickass ghost buster. So I can see why the spirits might use dreams as a technique of distraction.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. “So you’re saying the ghosts are making us dream to distract us from hunting them?”

Elena’s face pinched in apology. “I’m saying I think they’re distracting _Merlin_ for that reason,” she told Arthur. “You, I’m not so sure.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow and Merlin coughed into his fist to cover his chuckle.

“Gee, thanks for going easy on my ego,” Arthur said dryly.

Elena quickly tried to back-peddle. “No! I mean, I’m sure you’re a very good ghost hunter, er, paranormal investigator or whatever it is you like to be called – well, not as good as Merlin, of course. _Nobody_ is as good as Merlin--” Elena clapped a hand over her mouth as Arthur narrowed his eyes and fixed a scowl at her. “Oh dear,” Elena said, looking ever more apologetic. “I wasn’t meaning to offend. I, I just mean I think they are distracting you for a different reason.”

“Oh?” Arthur said, encouraging Elena to continue.

“Yes. Well, you see, the first day you disappeared from that vault with no possible explanation other than a spirit must have kidnapped you or hijacked you or something like that. And yesterday in the crypts, you were the one those skeleton ghosts seemed drawn to. Except for blasting poor Percy away, probably because of the visibility of the camera, they didn’t really bother with Merlin or Will. Based on those things, it’s hard not to think that the spirits here might be after you.”

It was Merlin’s turn to cock an eyebrow. “Wait. These are supposedly Arthur’s _ancestors_. Why would they be after him? Well, unless his namesake was a royal douchebag.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, “King Arthur of Camelot was not a douchebag. Besides, spirits do not attach themselves emotionally to the living. That makes Morgana and I as much fair game as any of you, ancestors or no ancestors.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, cowboy,” Elena interjected. “But nothing’s happened to Morgana. You’re the only one out of all of us the spirits have directly connected with. I’m sorry but I’m with Merlin on this one. Maybe your great one hundred times over grandfather was a douchebag and the spirits are using you as a proxy to take out their revenge.” 

The scowl on Arthur’s face indicated what he thought of Elena’s theory. Even Merlin had to admit it was a bit far-fetched, even if Arthur’s attitude made him wonder if being a prat was a distinctly heredity masculine characteristic. He recalled the vision he had had in the vault. If the Arthur-looking warrior in the vision had been King Arthur (and Merlin was now convinced it had been) Merlin would definitely attest that the man was not a douchebag. He couldn’t know this for sure, of course, but all of his intuition told him that King Arthur Pendragon had been a courageous and noble man who had fought for his people. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have any enemies (clearly he had, based on Merlin’s crystal vision) who might have been keen on coming back from the dead to wreak havoc. And the current Arthur Pendragon would be an attractive target for a vengeful spirit.

Arthur muttered something that sounded like “Scooby-doo psychic mumbo jumbo” before leaving Merlin and Elena for the company of his own team.

  


It was later in the morning when Morgana accosted him, coming back to the Great Hall after doing a sweep of the west wing with Gwaine (Arthur had requested to pair up with Morgana for a switch, which Merlin absolutely did not suspect was an avoidance tactic on Arthur’s part.)

She quirked a brow up and poked a finger at Merlin’s chest.

“So. You gonna tell me why my brother is suddenly mooning over you?”

“What?” Merlin squeaked out, thinking he must have misheard her. He thought she had said Arthur was _mooning_ over him.

“ _Mooning_ , Merlin,” Morgana repeated, crossing her arms over her chest. “Which is very odd because I’ve never known Arthur to moon.”

Merlin lifted his shoulder in a shrug, wishing he had the power to teleport himself when needed. “Um, I don’t know,” he said, avoiding Morgana’s soul-burning stare. “I saved his arse from a bunch of skeleton ghosts. Maybe he’s just...grateful?”

Morgana laughed and Merlin allowed himself to relax but only a little. “Merlin,” she said, “I think you know Arthur’s default setting is some variation of sneering scowl whether he’s grateful or not. No, my brother is definitely mooning over you. And I want to know why.”

“Merlin and Arthur are doing the nasty in their dreams,” Gwaine volunteered gleefully and Merlin gave him a look that indicated he planned to hex Gwaine for all of eternity. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Morgana said with a knowing smirk. 

“There’s no ‘oh’,” Merlin quickly countered, feeling the blush already settling on his cheekbones. “They’re just dreams.”

“Dreams that the two of you are sharing down to the last detailed letter,” Gwaine helpfully pointed out and Merlin mentally went through the list of items he would need for the hex bag that would permanently zip Gwaine’s mouth shut.

“Sounds like a form of other-worldly bonding to me,” Morgana said, her look thoughtful. 

Merlin gave her a sceptical look. “Other-worldly bonding?” he squawked. “There’s no bonding. They’re just dreams.” 

Morgana arched an eyebrow. “Dreams are simply a dimension outside of the here and now, Merlin,” she explained in a tone that reminded him of Elena when she preached her psychic mumbo jumbo. “If you and Arthur are sharing the same sex dream, I’d say that’s pretty much an other-dimension bonding ritual.” Merlin gave her a sardonic look. “Merlin, you and Arthur are _mating_ in your dreams--”

Merlin put his fingers in his ears. “Oh fuck, Morgana. Please stop!”

Gwaine threw his head back and laughed as Morgana grabbed Merlin’s fingers to pull them from his ears. “Bonding,” she said with a grin. 

He left a laughing Gwaine and a smirking Morgana in search of better company. An hour later, Merlin was still unable to get the words “mating”, “bonding”, and “Arthur” out of his head.

  


Merlin and Arthur were in a corridor in the south wing of the castle, sweeping for paranormal activity. They were in the last stretch of their last day at the castle and so far the teams had jack-squat in terms of any useable evidence. Lance and Gwen had painstakingly sifted through all the camera footage and sound recordings from the burial crypts and the treasure vault but there had been nothing that would actually serve as evidence of paranormal activity, despite their first-hand accounts. The promise of thirty thousand pounds was slipping away with the daylight and both teams were determined to capture something out of which they could make a case.

He slid a sidelong glance at Arthur who seemed overly preoccupied with adjusting the controls of his EMF detector. Arthur had been strangely quiet since they had begun their sweep and Merlin couldn’t help wondering if it had something to do with the long conversation Arthur had had with Morgana just before teaming back up with Merlin, a conversation that had probably included the words “mooning”, “bonding” and “mating”.

Merlin was debating whether he should throw it all out there just for something to break the uncomfortable silence but Arthur beat him to it.

“Morgana thinks I’m mooning over you,” Arthur said abruptly, though he still fiddled with the knobs on the detector. “Mooning? What the hell? I do not moon.”

“No, of course not,” Merlin replied, not sure how he was supposed to respond to that. 

Arthur stopped in the middle of the corridor. “Okay so maybe I have been developing _feelings_ based on these dreams we’re having and because we’ve been working together the past few days...”

_Feelings?_

“...but that doesn’t mean I’m arse over tits for you or anything. That’s just plain rubbish.” He looked at Merlin. “I mean, you’re.... _you_ , and--”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin said indignantly. Had Arthur just gone from sort of confessing he had feelings for Merlin to pretty much insulting him?

“Nothing,” Arthur defended, giving Merlin his best affronted look. Merlin’s indignation turned to seething. It was just like Arthur Pendragon to turn everything around so that he became the wounded one. 

“Look,” said Merlin angrily, “let’s just forget about the stupid dreams. I don’t care what Morgana thinks, there’s no other-worldly bonding happening between us.” He gestured between them. “It’s simple. I don’t like you and you don’t like me. This job is going to be over soon, which means that we’re not going to have to see each other again and that’s fine by me.”

Merlin had meant for his words to sting a little but the hurt look on Arthur’s face suggested that they had stung a lot. This surprised Merlin who figured Arthur was the tough sort who usually let things roll off of him (and what didn’t roll off Arthur countered with strategic arrogance and insults). He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling somewhat bad, and prepared to make at least a half-apology but before he could consider the words he should say, Arthur backed him up against the stone wall and crushed their mouths together. 

The kiss awakened all of Merlin’s senses, making it difficult to separate the intense feelings he had experienced in the dreams from the developing feelings he was now having. Dream Arthur was his soulmate, the one who made him whole, and yet Real Arthur, the one who was kissing him now, was new and unexplored, and Merlin found himself wanting to map every last detail of this man. 

Arthur pulled back slightly and whispered, “See what I mean? Feelings.” Then he went back to kissing Merlin. 

But something beyond suddenly caught Merlin’s attention. “Is that...?” he asked, pulling his mouth away to focus on the feminine figure he had caught a glimpse of at the end of the corridor. The figure, dressed in flowing black, turned and smiled at him before disappearing around the corner. 

Arthur sighed. “Yeah, think I’m gonna stick to kissing you in my dreams,” he muttered. 

Merlin was only half-listening though. The figure he had seen had been Morgana. But not the Morgana who had come to Camelot to investigate, not unless she had brought along a really sweet cosplay costume and had tucked away a curling iron in her backpack for the ghost hunt. Still, the resemblance had been eerily uncanny. 

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Arthur’s arm and tugging him along. “I just saw someone who looks like your sister.”

“Morgana?” 

“Yeah. But it can’t be.” Merlin let go of Arthur to hurry forward, determined to catch up to the Morgana look-alike. Maybe she was the key, he thought.

The figure wisped around the corner. Merlin quickly followed, reaching out a hand to catch the prize he was so close to finally grasping. 

Around the corner, he collided with the real Morgana, who looked down at Merlin’s hand on her chest then narrowed her eyes at him.

“Morgana!” Merlin shouted, telling himself it had been a manly exclamation and not a girlish scream. He quickly withdrew his hand from Morgana’s bosom.

“Merlin, we’ve been trying to reach you and Arthur for the last half hour,” Morgana said, her voice full of urgency. “There’s all kinds of activity happening in the east wing and we want everyone there. You and Arthur haven’t been answering your radios so I figured it would be quicker just to find you.”

Merlin reached into his cargos for his walkie talkie, his brows furrowing when he saw that that the power indicator light was on. “I didn’t receive any calls,” he told Morgana. He threw a look over his shoulder to ask Arthur, “Did any calls come through—oh crap.”

Of course, Arthur was not there.

“Oh, don’t tell me he’s missing again,” Morgana said with a sigh.

“He was just here,” Merlin insisted, jogging down the corridor to see if Arthur was hiding somewhere in an alcove just to be a right prat. But he wasn’t. Of course, he wasn’t. Merlin jogged back to Morgana. “Look, just go on and get everything set up in the east wing,” he told her. “It’s our last chance to get any evidence.” 

“What about Arthur?” Morgana asked, looking rightfully concerned. 

“I’ll look for Arthur,” Merlin said. “He couldn’t have wandered off too far,” he added in a casual tone he knew Morgana would not buy. 

She nodded anyway just to play along.

  


Merlin raced through the corridors in the south wing looking for Arthur. He knew, just as Morgana did, that it was unlikely that Arthur had simply “wandered off” and that it was more likely that he had been lured away again by some spirit, but for what possible reason Merlin still could not understand. He only half-agreed with Elena’s theory that the spirits were latching onto Arthur as a proxy for his ancestral namesake. Merlin believed that was part of it but he didn’t think it was the whole story. He hadn’t mentioned this to Elena or to Arthur, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that some of the spirits here were not aiming to hurt Arthur but to protect him. What Merlin didn’t know (and this was what was bothering him at the moment) was what side the Morgana look-alike spirit was on.

Merlin made his way through the west wing and then the north central wing but there was no sign of Arthur. He descended the large staircase and headed toward the Great Hall, figuring if Arthur had ‘come to’ somewhere like he had his last disappearance, he would probably go there to meet up with the rest of them. 

When Merlin entered the corridor leading to the Great Hall, Arthur was in fact travelling the path Merlin had predicted. 

“Arthur!” he yelled out to him, quickening his pace. Arthur did not appear to hear him so he yelled out again.

But Arthur did not respond. Merlin watched as Arthur pulled open the heavy doors of the Great Hall and disappeared inside. Merlin broke into a run, suddenly sensing that Arthur was in danger. 

He was intercepted, however, by Spirit Morgana who seemed to appear out of thin air. The apparition was not as strong as the first one he had seen, as though she had lost some of her ghost energy, and her face was frighteningly grave. 

“ _Forp fleoge!_ ” Merlin shouted, hoping to fling the spirit out of his immediate path. He had to get to Arthur. 

Spirit Morgana screeched, her ghostly body fading some more as she tried to resist being cast away. A deep cold settled around Merlin as the spirit floated in close to him. “Hurry!” she commanded urgently. “You must save him!” 

Merlin now understood that she was trying to help him not stop him; she wanted Merlin to save Arthur. Her message delivered, the spirit dissolved into a misty spectre that became part of the corridor. Merlin rushed to the doors of the Great Hall to pull them open. 

But he found the doors locked. Merlin banged his fists on the heavy door. “Arthur!” he yelled. “Arthur!”

A foreboding sense of terrible evil filled him as he banged helplessly on the doors, calling out for Arthur. Merlin needed to get into the hall. He needed to save Arthur. That was why he was here. 

“ _Tospringe_ ,” Merlin found himself uttering and was surprised when the doors to the Great Hall sprung open. He wasted no time and rushed inside.

The scene before him was beyond what Merlin had imagined. The Great Hall had been transformed into a battlefield; there were slain bodies everywhere save for two soldiers who continued to fight. Merlin watched as Arthur (not the armour-clad Arthur he had seen in the vision, but the PPI Arthur, _his_ Arthur) thrust a sword at the dark mage, plunging it into his midsection. He pulled it back then collapsed to his knees. The dark mage clutched his abdomen where the sword had pierced it, then stretched out his hand... 

“Arthur!” Merlin screamed. Running high on adrenaline and instinct, Merlin darted forward, shouting “ _Hleap on baec! Flieh on nu moras! Ablinn du forlaet du nu!_ ”, as he put himself between the sorcerer and Arthur. 

Merlin felt a blast of energy course through him as the black magic the dying sorcerer had intended for Arthur struck him. He felt pain but it was mixed with the relief of knowing he had been able to save Arthur. Merlin had fulfilled his destiny. 

Then he passed out.

  


A blurry face he recognized as Arthur slowly came into focus.

“Arthur?” he croaked, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

Arthur smiled at him. “Glad you’re still with us, Merlin,” he said. “I was afraid we’d lost you.”

There was a raucous at the entrance as Gwaine, Leon, Percy, Will and Morgana burst into the Great Hall, followed by Lance and Gwen, Elyan, Freya and Elena. 

“What the hell happened?” Morgana asked, rushing toward them. “Our equipment was registering all kinds of activity in here but we couldn’t get in! We couldn’t get to you!”

“Well,” said Arthur and Merlin now realized that Arthur was hovering protectively over him. “Let’s just say a very nasty spirit tried to kill me.” 

“Oh my god,” Morgana expressed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Arthur assured her then smiled at Merlin. “But only because Merlin here managed to get in the way.”

“Yeah, he tends to do that,” Gwaine commented with a grin. 

Morgana’s face was pale and etched with worry. “I’m okay,” Merlin told her. Arthur was safe. He was okay. Everything was okay. 

“I really don’t know how,” Arthur said suddenly, passing a shaky hand through his hair. “I saw freaking ghost magic pass right through you! Bloody hell, Merlin! What were you thinking? You could have died, you idiot.”

“Nah,” Merlin replied, warm affection spreading through him at the realization that Arthur had been worried about him. “I’m a kickass ghost buster, remember? Elena said so.”

Arthur blew out a sigh then chuckled. “You are that,” he conceded. “But just don’t do anything stupid like that ever again.” 

“You mean stupid like saving your life?”

“Exactly,” Arthur said. Then, catching Merlin completely by surprise, he leaned forward and captured Merlin’s mouth with his.

“About time,” Gwaine whistled appreciatively.

“Told you. Mooning,” Morgana said smugly.

“Definitely a psychic connection,” said Elena with glee.

“Don’t you mean a lust connection?” Will added dryly.

“Arthur and Merlin? Really?” asked Leon obliviously. 

“Yes, really,” Lance and Gwen both replied. 

“Where have you been the past three days?” expressed Percy. 

“Even the ghosts had it figured out,” said Elyan and Freya nodded vigorously beside him. 

Merlin and Arthur barely heard any of it. They were too busy kissing each other senseless.

  


There were two envelopes, one addressed to the BOO-Busters and one addressed to him. He opened the one for the team first and was surprised to find a check for thirty thousand pounds. Merlin was confused. They hadn’t been able to present any kind of evidence of paranormal activity at Camelot Castle; their equipment had been damaged and all photo, video and audio evidence had been messed up. Why had the Dragon Trust still paid Merlin and his team?

Thinking it might contain a reasonable explanation, he opened the other envelope but instead found a slip of paper. In bold, defined handwriting was written: _Merlin – I trust you found the half which makes you whole._ It was signed “Kilgharrah”.

Hmph, he thought, and just then his mobile rang. It was Arthur. Apparently, PPI had received a check in the amount of thirty thousand pounds as well and, like Merlin, Arthur had been left a separate envelope with a note.

“What did your note say?” Merlin asked, suddenly feeling breathless.

“Some drivel about destiny and two sides of the same coin,” Arthur said. “That Kigharrah chap is definitely a nut case. I mean, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Merlin stared down at the note in his hand and smiled. He thought he might have a pretty good idea. 

“So...” Merlin said tentatively, not sure what step he was supposed to take next.

“So,” Arthur mimicked, chuckling. “How about I come over to your place and we see if we can maybe re-enact some of those dreams?”

Merlin laughed, his nervousness dissipating now that he understood Arthur was on the same page. “Yeah,” he replied more boldly. “Let’s see if we can do that.”

“Be there in fifteen,” Arthur said, quickly hanging up.

  


_“Does being a prat ever skip a generation?” the warlock asked his king._

_“Says the man whose ancestors are clearly destined never to develop any fashion sense,” the king replied dryly, the corner of his lips quirking up._

_“One way or another, I’ve been saving your neck for centuries, though,” the warlock retorted smugly._

_The king smiled fondly. “Yes, Merlin, you have.”_

_Arthur leaned in then and kissed his warlock senseless, knowing it was the most effective way to shut Merlin up, even in the afterlife._

THE  END


End file.
